By Okechukwu Nwanguma
The latest travel advisory issued by the United States government, urging its citizens to reconsider travel to Nigeria, is more than a routine security alert. It is a stark indictment of Nigeria’s persistent governance failures and a sobering wake-up call for those in charge.
Citing rampant kidnapping, armed violence, terrorism, unreliable healthcare, and the absence of basic emergency services, the U.S. government has placed Nigeria in the “Level 3 – Reconsider Travel” category, with 18 states essentially red-flagged as no-go zones. These warnings are not based on speculation. They are grounded in observable realities that Nigerians themselves endure daily — a reality marked by insecurity, neglect, and erosion of public trust.
The U.S. Mission’s advisory speaks of a country where “violent crime is common,” including armed robbery, carjacking, kidnapping, and rape. It warns of armed gangs operating freely, terrorist attacks in both the North and South, and the dismal state of healthcare that makes even basic treatment and medicines inaccessible. For a country with immense resources and potential, this portrait is tragic — and deeply telling.
How did we get here?
Despite successive administrations’ lofty rhetoric about fighting insecurity and fixing critical infrastructure, Nigeria continues to suffer from governance by neglect. Policymaking is often reactive, driven by optics rather than long-term strategy. Security agencies are underfunded, demoralized, and frequently complicit in the very crimes they’re meant to prevent. Public hospitals are starved of equipment, personnel, and drugs, leaving even the well-connected to seek treatment abroad.
The warning that “emergency services like those in the United States or Europe do not exist” is not just a concern for American travelers — it is a cruel reality for millions of Nigerians whose lives are lost every year due to the absence of ambulances, blood banks, or timely medical response.
Equally alarming is the normalization of kidnapping-for-ransom, which has transformed from a fringe criminal activity into a nationwide epidemic. The wealthy travel in convoys, the middle class live in fear, and the poor are either victims or forgotten. That foreign governments now highlight these dangers in official advisories only amplifies the shame that our leaders seem unwilling to confront.
It is tempting for Nigerian authorities to dismiss the U.S. advisory as foreign exaggeration or interference. But denial will not erase the facts. The states listed — Borno, Zamfara, Kogi, Imo, Abia, and more — are not theoretical threats. They are daily headlines. Communities there live under siege, while the state either lacks the capacity or the will to act.
Rather than issue counter-statements or blame “external forces,” the Nigerian government must take this moment to reflect and act. This advisory should be treated as a diagnostic report, pointing to critical national ailments. It underscores the need for a complete overhaul of our security architecture, sustainable investment in healthcare, and a credible strategy to combat organized crime and corruption.
But beyond action, what Nigeria needs is political will — a readiness to govern not just for the next election, but for the next generation.
If our government won’t listen to its own citizens, perhaps the words of a foreign power will break through the fog of denial. Because for every American reconsidering travel to Nigeria, millions of Nigerians have no choice but to remain here — to live and die in the conditions described in that advisory.
They deserve better.
